


The Chill Pill

by lucyrne (theungenue)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Evans Family Drama, F/M, Genderbend, cursing, post-manga canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theungenue/pseuds/lucyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genderbend AU. Lovers and partners Soul and Mako must reveal their engagement to Soul's domineering parents at the most extravagant gala of the year. What should be a routine encounter takes a turn for the ridiculous after Mako accidentally takes hallucinogenic drugs. It's up to Soul to contain her drugged boyfriend, protect her sister's reputation, and prevent her father from bursting an eye capillary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chill Pill

**Author's Note:**

> The situations and main lines of dialogue featured in this story are based upon my favorite subplot from "Death at a Funeral." I don't take credit for creating them, just for translating them to the Soul Eater universe.

Weapon and meister descended the Shibusen steps. The laughing sun dozed above them, causing the sky to deepen into a warm orange. It would have been a beautiful moment, romantic even, if a cloud of dread didn’t hang over them both.

 

“Can you quiz me again?” Mako asked his partner. Soul audibly groaned, because her meister always used studying to calm his anxiety before a something important, like a dangerous mission. Except mingling with Soul’s parents at a gala hosted by one of their good friends wasn’t as difficult or life-threatening as slaying a rogue witch. From the way Mako stressed about it, you would think he was being sent to his doom. Meanwhile, Soul’s stomach churned when she thought about how she was very likely sending herself to her own doom later that night.

 

The amazing view of Death City at the top of Shibusen shrank out of view as they climbed down the endless staircase. With only a slight rolling of her eyes, Soul proceeded to help Mako study. “Right. Before the concert they ask you what you are looking forward to. What do you say?”

 

“Wes.”

 

“Yup. After the concert, they ask you what your favorite part was.”

 

“Wes.”

 

“You got it. Politics.”

  
“Taxes are far too high for the wealthy.”

 

“Ok. And when they’ve drunk three glasses of wine?”

  
Mako paused before answering in one breath. “Can I have your permission to marry your daughter?”

  

They had finally reached the bottom of the stairs, and Soul put her hands on Mako’s shoulders. “You aced it, like always.” She rewarded him with a lustful kiss before fishing her motorcycle keys out of her pocket. They had just enough time to ride her bike back to the apartment, change into their fancy schmancy attire, and make it to the gala a healthy fifteen minutes late. Wes didn’t start playing until 7, so as long as they weren’t late for that the couple was golden.

 

Soul tossed her long white hair over her shoulder as she fastened her motorcycle helmet to her head. After years of partnership, she finally found a reason to listen to Mako’s nagging and wear a damn helmet. Mako sat in what Black Star referred to as “the bitch seat” but what Soul thought of as “the best seat.” Driving a motorcycle was always cool as hell, but it was fucking perfect when a hot guy was essentially spooning you at the same time. She ripped the engine and together the couple sped down the street.

 

Soul’s parents swore long ago that the arid climate and lack of refined culture in Death City was too dreadful for them to even consider a visit. They changed their tune after Kid invited Wes and her orchestra to play at her fancy gala at Gallows Manor. Turns out all they needed to hightail it to Death City was a personal invitation from Lord Death and the promise of watching their golden child perform in front of the world’s most influential dignitaries.

 

Interacting with her parents long ceased to scare Soul--or at least she thought so. There was no telling how they would react to the news that Soul intended on getting married to her meister. And of course there was that other bit of news that even Mako didn’t know about yet.

 

“I'm a little nervous,” Mako admitted at a red light. He held on to Soul’s torso a little tighter, and his breath lightly tickled her left ear. “I just don't think I've been so openly hated by anyone before.” He was talking about Soul’s father, who wasn’t the warmest when the two first met a couple years ago.

 

“My dad just hates everyone. Don’t take it personally,” Soul said over the purr of her motorcycle. “And my mom will be too busy heaping praise upon my sister to pay attention to you. Anyway, I’m sure when I tell them that we’re engaged, they will suck it up and learn to accept you.”

 

“Victor Evans doesn’t really seem to be the accepting type.”

 

Soul did not care one way or the other whether her parents approved of her fiance. Her original plan was to elope, but Mako was the one who insisted on doing things “the right way.” The scythe wished Mako could just forget all the romcom bullshit and not ask her parents for her hand in marriage like some fictional character, but she went along with it because it was important to him. In the end, it didn’t matter if her parents refused to give them their blessing. Their souls were mated for life.  Anyways, she was more worried about Mako’s reaction when--

 

A blue car in the next lane over suddenly cut in front of the couple, nearly running the bike completely off the road and into a telephone pole. Luckily Soul had driven her bike through some tough spots, and she had experience performing evasive maneuvers in a busy street. She dodged the telephone pole and slid the bike to a stop.   

 

Soul took off her helmet to let loose her rage. “I’M A FUCKING DEATHSCYTHE ON MY WAY TO LORD DEATH’S GALA YOU LITTLE FUCK! HAVE YOU GOT ANY RESPECT?”

 

They could hear faint swearing coming from the blue car as it peeled away. After replacing her helmet, Soul suddenly felt that traffic laws were beneath her. She revved the bike and sped forward. Mako liked to study when he was stressed. Soul liked to crush it on her bike. The speed and adrenaline was its own drug, and it calmed her tumultuous soul. By the time the bike careened around the corner and rolled to their apartment building, Soul was feeling much more confident about the night ahead.

 

Mako dismounted the bike on wobbly legs. Perhaps going nuts on her bike with an already frazzled meister in the backseat wasn’t a great idea. “Okay, calm down,” Soul said, taking Mako’s hand and leading him into the building. “It’s alright, breathe. Through your nose.”

 

In the apartment, Blair lounged on the couch with a unlabeled plastic bag of pills in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. He was dressed in nothing but his tight briefs, and he released a gravelly purr as the girl on the phone spoke to him.

 

“Babe, I’m never going to make it through this fancy gala if you keep talking like that,” he said coyly. Blair cocked his head to the side and laid the plastic baggie across his rock hard abs. The small white tablets didn’t look like much, but they packed a punch.

 

“I’m telling you, this is powerful stuff. You really only need to take half. Trust me.” His mouth formed a mischievous grin, revealing his sharp canines. “You’re going to blow your fucking head off.”

His purple ears twitched towards the door. The cat could hear keys rattling in Soul’s hand and Mako taking  deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling in time with his footsteps. He whispered his goodbyes and hung up before taking the bag of pills into the kitchen. Scanning the collection of medicine in the pantry, Blair swiped a bottle of valium and emptied its contents into the trash. The unlabeled pills were then poured into the now empty bottle. She did say she wanted something more discreet than a sketchy plastic bag.

 

As Blair twisted the cap closed and replaced it on the counter, the front door opened. When the meister laid eyes on Blair’s half-naked form, he looked like he swallowed a lemon.

 

“Blair, you can’t go to the gala wearing that!” Maka said. Blair snapped his fingers and magically vanished his briefs, causing Mako to squawk in a mixture of frustration and surprise.

 

“Relaaax,” the naked man purred. Making his roommates flustered was one of his favorite hobbies. “I’ll pop on a tux and we’ll be good to go.” Blair strode out of the room, his curled purple tail brushing both Soul and Mako’s noses as he went. When the couple was alone, Mako collapsed on the couch.

 

She needed to get ready, but Soul couldn’t let her meister keep stressing over something so stupid. Soul walked into the kitchen to get him water when a small bottle on the table caught her eye. She picked it up and read the label--valium. This should do the trick. She retrieved a pill from the bottle and filled a glass with water. A moment later, she was back in the living room.

 

“Open up,” she said. Mako her a questioning look. “It’s valium,” Soul explained. “It’ll calm you down. Trust me.” Mako took the water and pill without hesitation. Satisfied that he was on the mend, Soul went into her own room to get ready.

 

After shimmying into a little black dress and cramming her feet into heels she didn’t like, Soul considered herself ready. In the living room, the boys were waiting for her. Blair, for once, was wearing a shirt and pants at the same time, and his cat ears were covered by his curled, floppy witch’s hat. Mako was in a dark jacket and fitted waistcoat, with a dark red tie tight around his neck. God was that man attractive in menswear. The meister looked a little dazed, but the anxiety had finally lifted. Soul pinned a section of unruly hair out of her eyes, and the three left.

 

Before getting out the door, Blair quickly snatched the bottle of pills from the kitchen table and stuck it in his pocket. A special gift for a special lady.

 

* * *

 

Gallows Manor was filled to the brim with people Soul had never seen before. Men with coifed hair and tuxedos, woman with opera gloves and pearls, they all swam in Soul’s vision into a blur of faceless clones. An enormous portrait of the former Lord Death loomed in the ballroom, staring down every guest with black, lifeless eyes.

 

As she looked around, Soul found some people were easier to spot and recognize--Black Star’s electric blue hair and plunging neckline caught Soul’s eye immediately, as did the ninja’s tall weapon Tsubasa, who was holding Black Star’s purse, plate of hors d'oeuvres, and two glasses of champagne. As much as she wanted to say hi, Soul had to speak to someone else first.

 

Blair quickly disappeared after they arrived, seamlessly melting into the crowd. After staying very quiet the entire cab ride to the manor, Mako began to speak as if his mouth were full of cotton balls.

 

“Was there a dog here just now?” Mako said. “I--I swear there was a dog in here.”

 

Soul was on the lookout for her family. “What are you talking about?” she asked, but her mind was focused solely on identifying the faces in the crowds. She wanted to find and talk to Wes before dealing with her prickly parents. A waiter offered Soul champagne, and she declined. Across the room, Soul spotted a silky cascade of blonde hair laughing with a champagne flute in her hand. Wesleigh Evans never did subscribe to the belief that drinking before a concert was a bad idea.

 

After grabbing Mako’s hand--for some reason the dork was having trouble keeping up with her--Soul weaved through the crowd to get to her older sister. Though Wes’ immeasurable talent was a point of tension and jealousy when Soul was a child, in her maturity she stopped resenting the prodigious, arrogant sister she thought Wes was and started loving the supportive, easy-going sister she actually had. Soul just regretted that it took her so damn long to become friends with Wes.

 

After squeezing through the throng of people, Soul finally got a good look at who Wes was talking to--Blair. The cat had one hand on the brim of his hat and another in his pants pocket, fiddling with something concealed inside. Well, Soul thought wryly, attractive guys always do gravitate towards Wes. Even the ones that are actually cats.

 

In her rush to get to her sister, Soul didn’t notice Blair whisper in Wes’ ear, remove a bottle of pills from his pocket, and press it into Wes’ hand. The violinist then squirreled it away in her purse as if the exchange never happened.

 

The two were behaving much more aloofly by the time Soul got to them. “You two already met?” Soul asked, looking between her sister and her cat.

 

“Just making some small talk,” Blair said. The sisters embraced, and when they came apart Wes turned her attention to Soul’s meister.

 

“Hey Mako, long time no see!” Wes said. She was a hugger, so she also threw her slender arms around the meister and pulled him into an embrace. “Soul told me all about the big announcement,” she continued. “Don’t worry, I’m totally backing you up. You guys are too adorable not to get married. Mom and Dad will be over the moon, you’ll see.”

 

A low cackle rumbled in Mako’s throat. “Your dress is sooooooo shiny,” Mako said in a strange, dreamy tone. He stroked the fabric clinging to her waist, causing Wes to let go of Mako to stare at him blankly. Her long silver gown did shimmer in the light, but it was very unMako-like to point it out, not in that tone. And it was even more unMako-like to look at anyone with a dopey smile and wide, unfocused eyes. Without saying anything more, Mako wandered away, cutting a zigzag path across the ballroom. Blair and the Evans sisters watched Mako stumble away with curiosity.

 

“Is your boyfriend normally like this?” Wes asked, twirling a lock of blonde hair with her finger. Mako had now found the Thompson brothers, who were dressed in matching waistcoats and casually sipping their champagne and eating a plate full of hors d'oeuvres. Mako gave them a limp wave, and appeared to say something. Soul could not hear what he said, but Eli’s head jerked backwards, shocked, and Pat dropped his plate of food as he devolved into hysterics.

 

“Of course he's not normally like this!” Soul replied. She bit her lip, and understanding dawned on her. “It’s the valium. I gave him a valium before we left home. I guess he's just not used to it.”

 

Blair’s tail twitched erratically. He exchanged a horrified glance with Wes before the paling violinist walked away with surprising speed.

 

Soul didn’t call for Wes to come back because her gaze was fixated on the other side of the room. The Thompsons were now crouched on the floor, scratching their heads in confusion. The scene was not unlike all those times Soul witnessed the brothers rouse Kid out of one of her obsessive episodes, except instead of Kid pounding her fist into the hardwood floor, Mako was laying spread eagle on his back, waving his arms and legs as if he were making a snow angel.  

 

“I have to tell you something,” Blair suddenly said to Soul in a low voice. The scythe looked at her roommate; his yellow eyes were terrified. “I'm warning you in advance, you're not gonna like it.”

 

The Thompson’s helped Mako back to his feet, and followed the addled meister as he stumbled forward.

 

“It wasn’t actually valium,” Blair said. Soul tore her eyes away from Mako to look at him dead in the face. Blair had taken off his hat, and held it in front of his chest like a shield. “It’s a hallucinogenic concoction. You know, stuff like acid, mescaline, some magic…”

 

Soul’s face was blank and uncomprehending. “Are you fucking with me right now Blair?” The cat’s ears drooped with guilt. The scythe barred her sharp teeth as if she were the animal and Blair was the human. In any other place, she would have launched at Blair and clawed his face like a hellcat. “What the fu--Why, why do you even have that?”

 

Blair tried to sooth Soul by pouting his lips and speaking in his cute, kitten voice. “Bu-tan was holding it for a fwend!”   

 

Blair’s cute face had zero effect on Soul, who quickly smacked the cat on the back of his head. “Idiot, you left it lying around in a valium bottle, on our kitchen table!”

 

“I left it lying around for two minutes,” Blair whimpered. “I didn’t know anyone was going to take it.”

 

Soul swallowed her anger and turned her attention back to her boyfriend. The Thompsons were still tailing Mako, thank Death, though whether it was out of concern or amusement Soul couldn’t tell. Mako was now reaching inside a thick potted plant until the entire length of his lanky arms disappeared in its branches. He started to press his face through the leaves, causing Pat to roar with laughter and Eli to shake his head.

 

This was a nightmare, a total mindfucking disaster. Of all nights this could have happened, of all events, Mako had to get high on powerful drugs tonight. Soul hadn’t found her parents yet, and Mako was in no state to interact with them. But there was also no way she could leave the gala without grievously offending her parents, Kid, and possibly Wes. They were trapped.

 

“What should I do?” Soul asked. “Should I tell him?”

 

“NO,” Blair urged. “That would just freak him out. We should just keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t talk to anyone for too long.”

 

The scythe took Blair’s arm in a vice grip and dragged him across the room. The Thompsons had untangled Mako from the potted plant, and the meister now was being taunted by Pat with a fruit kebab. Eli looked relieved when he saw Soul coming towards him.

 

“Yo Soul,” Eli said with a jerk of his chin. “I think Mako is sick or something.”

 

“No kidding,” Soul growled as she walked straight past him.

 

Pat cackled as he held the skewered grapes and berries out of Mako’s reach. The meister leapt and struggled to get a hold of it, tears of frustration forming in the corners of his eyes. Pat was enjoying himself immensely, and did not notice a very pissed off deathscythe looming behind him.

 

Soul grabbed Pat’s wrist, pulled him close, and fiercely whispered through her sharp teeth. “If you don’t stop that right now I’m going to kick the living shit out of you do you understand?” Pat’s laughter evaporated, and with a grunt Soul wrenched the fruit kebab out of Pat’s hand. Thoroughly terrified, the Thompsons slunk away into the crowd.

 

Blair and Soul worked together to drag Mako to a somewhat secluded spot in the ballroom. It was here that Soul finally gave the fruit kebab to Mako, who stared at it with awe. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Mako murmured. He unhinged his jaw like a snake and ate the kebab whole, toothpick included.

 

One small pill was turning what should have been a casual evening into an outrageous clusterfuck, but Soul saw that it was about to get even worse. Her father was barreling towards them, using his distasteful gaze to scare people out of his path. Her mother trailed behind him, attempting to network with important people and follow her husband at the same time.  

 

Victor Evans was not amused by Mako’s presence. “I see you brought your friend along,” her father said gruffly. He was of course referring to Mako as if he hadn’t been the one constant in Soul’s life for an entire decade. That tone of perpetual disappointment used to chill Soul to the bone, but he lost the ability to terrify her with a look long ago.

 

“Of course I did,” Soul said. “Mako, say hi to my parents.”

 

The meister cowered behind his weapon, avoiding Victor’s gaze at all costs. The drugs amplified his anxiety instead of calming it down. Mako finally managed a small wave over Soul’s shoulder. “Taxes are so high,” he said. His voice jumped an octave. “They should be stopped.” Soul closed her eyes and sighed so she didn’t have to look at her father’s incredulous face.

 

Just as Soul predicted, her mother paid Mako no mind and took her hand. “Well let’s go! We don’t want to get stuck in the back while Wes performs!”

 

Cressida Evans was the very definition of an orchestra mom. While Victor enjoyed the residual glory of talented children, Cressida took her daughters’ music education and performance more personally. She was the one who badgered the music teachers to give her daughters solos, wrote letters to their school when it had the gall to schedule a concert at the same time as a football game, and lurked backstage with extra sheets of music and a sewing kit in case there was an emergency.   

 

She was also the one, of course, who tried so hard to use Wes’ innate talent to motivate Soul to work harder, play better. That was all it really was--a well-intentioned, but horribly executed plan to get Soul to be the best she could be. It wasn’t much better than her father’s parenting strategy, which was to reiterate his constant disappointment in order to encourage his children to fight tooth and nail for his approval. Now that she was grown ass adult, Soul understood that her parents weren’t bad or unfeeling people. They just didn’t know how to raise a child who wasn’t Wes. Maybe when they found out about the engagement, they would realize that Soul wasn’t their problem child anymore.

 

In all of her worry over Mako, Soul failed to notice that rows of orderly chairs and a music stands had been neatly arranged in the ballroom below the portrait of the old Lord Death. Soul saw Death the Kid, the current Lord Death and hostess of this event, adjusting the chairs to make sure they were in straight, even lines. With a firm grip on Mako’s wrist, Soul followed her parents to the front row. Blair sat a few rows back, watching his roommates with anxious eyes.

 

Wes was already amongst the orchestra, tuning her instrument. The deathscythe hurriedly flipped through the thin orchestra program she found in her seat. How long was this thing supposed to be again? Mako began ripping his program into thin strips, giggling as it came apart in his hands. Soul shushed him as the orchestra took their seats and prepared to begin.

 

“Did you see that?” Mako whispered, eyes trained on the painting behind the orchestra. It was a portrait of a cartoonish Lord Death, giving a thumbs up with one of his enormous hands. “The painting--it just moved.” Soul shushed him, assured him that no the painting had not moved, and Mako went quiet once more.

 

Wes stood up from her seat, a lone figure swathed in silver amongst and orchestra of dark, sitting musicians. Her violin was nestled in the crook of her neck, and she graceful moved the bow across the strings. All the stress and worry over her drugged meister temporarily lifted as Soul watched the bow glide back and forth, producing flawless sound.  

 

“There it is again!” Mako said with a gasp, dragging Soul’s attention away from her sister’s music. Though some people glanced in Mako’s direction, Wes kept playing without interruption. Soul grabbed his hand and whispered for him to stay quiet, but this only encouraged Malo to speak louder. “I tell you the PAINTING is MOVING!”

 

Mako ripped his hand out of Soul’s and staggered to his feet. “Can’t you see?” He demanded. Wes’s bow stumbled in the middle of a note, and Soul sat with her jaw hung open, paralyzed by suffocating waves of humiliation and horror.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” Mako yelled at a stunned audience of gala attendees. “OPEN YOUR EYES! The painting is moooooving aroooouund! There’s something alive in there...”

 

Without Soul at his side, Mako did the next best thing. He grabbed a cellist’s music stand, ignoring the musician’s protests and the flutter of sheet music falling to the floor, and twirled it around his wrist like a weapon. Five people--Soul, Blair, Wes, and the Thompson brothers--simultaneously realized what Mako intended to do. The meister charged forward, pushing musicians and instruments out of his way as he ran to battle what he must have thought was a great evil.

 

With agility that only a cat could possess, Blair jumped over three rows of people and sprinted after Mako. His claws grabbed ahold of Mako’s flaring jacket, dragging him down. Wes and the other musicians leapt out of the way, scrambling to protect their instruments. Guests began to stand up and scream, and the elder Thompson rushed forward, using his burlier physique to help pin Mako to the ground. Soul jumped from her own seat to get the boys off the floor and drag her fiance out of view. Meanwhile, Pat stood up at the front to give an announcement.

 

“The reception is starting early in the backyard!” Pat yelled to the audience, indicating the french windows leading to the decorated grounds of Gallows Manor. “Everybody drink! The concert will start up again in thirty minutes!”

 

Flustered gala guests began to file out of the ballroom while Soul and the others successfully restrained Mako at the foot of the grand staircase. The scythe tried her hardest to ignore the pointed, judgemental looks from other attendees, reminding herself over and over that she was a deathscythe and didn’t give one shit about what those fuckers thought about her, as long as Mako was ok.

 

* * *

Everything was brilliant and nothing made sense.

 

There were souls, souls everywhere floating and writhing and illuminating, and of course there was Soul, the brightest of them all, dragging Mako away from the colorful horde and sitting him at the bottom of a staircase. And there was the painting, which definitely whispered soft threats in Mako’s ear and beckoned him to attack. But everyone seemed more concerned about him than they did the moving, plotting painting.   

 

Nauseous and dizzy, Mako looked up and saw Death herself walking briskly walking towards him in her reaper regalia, sharp chin set and hair fluttering behind her like dark wings. The air itself seemed to ripple with her steps, and her golden eyes burned with fury. “What is going on?” Kid demanded. “You have disrupted my gala, disturbed my seating arrangement, and attempted to destroy my mother’s portrait. I expect a full explanation!”

 

Kid’s hair and cloak were flickering shadows, and they dominated Mako’s vision. He couldn’t focus, let alone think, but somehow he was able to mumble response. “It winked at me I know I saw it--”

 

Soul came to Mako’s rescue, hair blazing like blinding white sunbeams. She started speaking to Kid furiously, but her voice flowed too rapidly for him to make out what she was saying. Her soul compressed and expanded with the fervor of her voice. Without announcement, Kid turned on her heel and walked back towards the ballroom. Mako’s weapon sat down next to him and rubbed his back.

 

“Why is everyone so angry? I swear I saw it moving I swear I did...” Mako stared helplessly at his hands. “I must be going mad, why did no one else see? Why are my hands are so BIG?”

 

“Mako, listen to me,” Soul said through gritted teeth. They were so sharp and pretty--they shined. Everything about her shined. Mako knew he really liked that mouth and those teeth, but they were even more dazzling than usual. He wanted to taste them, to taste all of them, but as he leaned forward Soul shook him by the shoulders. “I need to tell you something!”

 

Mako’s neck went slack and he drooped his head to the side. Her soul was all around him, undulating and flaring with color. He looked at her soul often, but it never was like this. He wanted to go swimming in her soul, to feel the warmth of her wavelength envelop him.

 

“You know how I gave you some valium?” Soul’s voice penetrated through the crashing splendor flooding his senses. “Well…it turns out...it wasn't actually valium at all.”

 

Mako made a noise, possibly to express confusion. He wasn’t even sure what it meant--he felt like his mind was floating five feet above the rest of his body. “Can you hear me?” he heard Soul ask with a disjointed voice.

 

“Heh-Hellooooo?” Mako said in a loud, strangled voice to no one in particular.

  
“Blair filled the valium bottle with a hallucinogen,” Soul explained slowly. Her voice echoed through Mako’s ears as he tried to grasp their meaning. “You’re high. Very, very high. That’s why you keep seeing things.”

 

His head began to throb painfully as Maka gradually understood what Soul was saying. Tonight was an important night, the night he was going to cement their engagement and his future with Soul. But if what Soul was saying was true, did that mean that all this time...“Get it now?” Soul said. She had six eyes. “Hallucinogenic.”

 

Mako’s mammoth hands moved to the top of his head in an effort to steady his perception, but colors continued to fly around his face. He had been high this whole time, and he didn’t even know. How did he not guess? Mako saw a purplish blob approach him--it was Blair, the one behind all this. His yellows eyes looked like tiny fires in his skull, and Mako whipped a book out of his jacket pocket to put those fires out.

 

“My advice is to relax,” Blair said with a nervous laugh. “Try to enjoy it.” Mako’s famous temper rose to the surface.

 

“YOUUUUUU!” Mako shouted, wildly swiping at Blair’s face with his book. “You did this to me!” Blair dodged the initial attack, and the meister tackled him to the ground. Dropping the book, Mako straddled Blair and grasped the collar of his shirt.

 

“How. Long. Does. It. Last?” Mako demanded in short bursts of breath.

 

Blair’s eyes were spirals of gold. “I--I don’t know, eight hours?”

 

Mako seethed. “EIGHT HOURS OF THIS?” His stomach churned painfully, and Mako dropped Blair so his hand could fly to his mouth. “I’m going to be sick,” he sputtered before staggering to his feet. He stumbled up the staircase, jumping two or three steps at a time, and sprinted into the first bathroom he found. Once inside, he jossled the doorknob until he was certain it was good and locked.

 

He could feel Soul’s wavelength on the other side of the door, and it felt pissed. She jerked the doorknob. “Open the door Mako, I’m not mad at you,” she lied. “Just let me in. Unlock the door.”

 

Mako ignored her and leaned over the sink, catching his breath. His flesh was boiling undearth his skin, and no matter how many times he blinked he couldn’t gain any focus. All at once, he could perceive soul at the gala. All of them were feeling the same mixture of emotions--confusion, second-hand embarrassment, pity.

 

If he didn’t get it together, Mako would never convince Soul’s parents to accept him, never. He couldn’t go home or walk down the aisle with that failure on his shoulders. Outside, he could hear Soul urging him to open the door, becoming more frustrated with every knock. Mako pointed at his reflection in the mirror.

 

“You are Mako Albarn,” he said to his blurry reflection. “You can do this.” The fringe of his hair was plastered to his forehead, and he shakily wiped his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You are a straight A student. You made a deathscythe. Eight hours, just eight hours.”

 

He looked at his right wrist and panicked. “WHERE’S MY WATCH?” he shouted. He spotted it on his left wrist. “OH!” He struggled to steady his wrist and focus on the small clock face, and gasped in horror.

 

“Seven more hours to go…” Mako whimpered in a broken voice. He threw his head back and howled. ‘FUUUUUUCK!”

 

* * *

 

“GODDAMMIT MAKO OPEN THIS DOOR!” Soul’s voice was drowned out by Mako’s extremely vocal anguish in the next room. She pounded on the door, desperately hoping whatever common sense Mako still had left would spur the meister to hold it together. It was hard to not become furious with him, because even though it was not Mako’s fault that he accidentally ingested hard drugs, his inability to handle his high was proving most inconvenient.

 

Mako’s inane screaming paled in comparison to Victor Evans.

 

Soul heard her father long before she saw him. “I’ll kill him. I’LL KILL HIM!” She heard stomping footsteps climb the stairs and trudge into the hallway, the click clack of heels following close behind. With a sigh, Soul leaned her back against the door and steeled herself for the fight that sure to come.

 

Her father stormed down the hallway with the meanest, most disappointed face he could muster. Wes was holding onto his jacket sleeve, trying to calm and slow him down. “Daddy please! Leave it!” Wes pleaded. The Evans patriarch shook her off and strode towards his youngest daughter. The elder Evans daughter stumbled into the arms of Blair, who had backed out of Victor’s line of sight.

 

“Leave it?! That buffoon has wrecked the gala,” Victor shouted, pointed a thick finger at the bathroom door. “Your mother is in tatters, your sister’s concert ruined. I want him out of here, is that clear? Promise me you will have nothing to do with that ridiculous man again!”

 

Soul wanted to stand her ground, but her confrontations with her father always sapped her of resolve and confidence.  “He’s not actually like this!” she said. She was a little girl all over again. “He--he had some drugs and now--”

 

“Drugs? What drugs?” Victor said, his disapproval growing by the second. Soul’s eyes instinctively flicked towards Blair. He had his arms around Wes, who was leaning into his embrace.  

 

Bu-tan was holding the drugs for a friend, and Soul just figured out who that friend was.

 

Soul made contact with Wes over their father’s shoulder. Wes’ blue eyes were wide, and she mouthed a silent plea to her younger sister. This was too good to be true. A few years ago, Soul would have relished this chance to ruin her sister’s spotless reputation. What would do more damage--the fact that Wes was into powerful hallucinogenic drugs, or the suspicion that she might be romantically involved with a magical cat? How great would it feel to witness her father’s disapproving eyes move away from Soul and towards his favored daughter?

 

She tore her gaze away from Wes to look at her father straight in the eye. “Valium,” Soul finally said. “He had some valium and had a bad reaction. That’s it.” Out of the corner of her eyes, Soul saw her sister relax her shoulders in relief.   

 

Victor furrowed his brow and nodded. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said. Soul’s father left just as abruptly as he arrived, no doubt to find and console his wife. Wes mouthed a sincere ‘thank you’ to her little sister before heading down the hallway herself.

 

Blair tipped his hat and whistled as he watched Wes and Victor go. Soul gave him a withering look, but she wasn’t interested in hearing the details of his and Wes’ relationship just yet. There was someone more important on her mind. The bathroom had been quiet for a while, so Soul knocked firmly on the door.

 

“Mako, stand away from the door. I’m breaking it down,” she said. Her right forearm transformed into a scythe blade, and she muttered some apologies to Kid before slicing through the door. She kicked the splintered remains out of her way and strode into the bathroom.

 

Mako was not there. His shirt lay unbuttoned and crumpled on the sink by the bathroom mirror, his socks and tie strewn about on the floor. His pants hung from the shower curtain, and his jacket was in the empty bathtub. Mako’s waistcoat and boxers were piled in a disorderly pool by the wall. A soft breeze blew in through the open window, the gossamer curtains softly fluttering in the moonlight.

 

“No,” Soul said in disbelief. “NO.” She was at the window in an instant, standing on her tiptoes so she could lean over the window pane and look out into the garden. Blair was right behind her, holding onto his hat with one hand and leveraging himself on the window ledge with the other. They both looked frantically at the ground, searching for wherever Mako might have fallen, and when they didn’t spy his broken body they suspiciously craned their necks upward to check the rooftop.

 

Pale legs dangled over the roof’s edge, and after leaning further out the window, they saw Mako sitting on the roof of Gallows Manor, stark naked, staring at the sky. His green eyes were distressed, and he had wrapped his arms around his chest.  

 

Soul’s heart-stopping dread was replaced with exasperation. “What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded. “Get the hell the back inside!”

 

Mako shook his head in utter despair. “You can have nothing to do with this ridiculous man again!”

 

“Don’t be stupid!” Soul snapped. She saw her fiance flinch at her tone, and reeled back her irritation. “Mako, you have drugs in you. You aren’t yourself. Come inside and we’ll talk about all this, like adults.”

 

“NO!” She saw Mako’s legs retract onto the roof, and he crawled on his hands and knees out of view. Just as Soul lost sight of her boyfriend, she heard the shocked gasps of guests in the garden below. She could distinctly hear Black Star cackling and Kid’s exasperated shriek. “Don’t come up here--I’ll jump!” Mako shouted somewhere on the roof. “I’ll jump I’ll jump, I swear I will!” More shouts sounded from below, this time coming from a surprisingly level-headed Tsubasa telling everyone to calm down and keep back.

 

Blair tried desperately to get a good look at where Mako went. “God, do you think he’s actually going to jump?”

 

Soul gave him a glare that would immolate a being with less than seven souls. “If he jumps, you’re fucked.” Blair nodded grimly before rushing out of the bathroom and down the stairs. If anyone had the reflexes and magical know-how to catch a flailing Mako, it was him.

 

Upstairs, Soul slipped off her heels and took a deep breath. She braced herself in the window, uncertainly straddling the frame and stopping herself from looking directly at the ground. Soul wasn’t afraid of heights, but she was still three stories up in the air, in a little black dress to boot. As a weapon, Soul lacked Mako’s crazy gymnastic skills, and she couldn’t sprout wings in a pinch like he could. But she loved the guy, even though the couple couldn’t go forty eight hours without yelling at each other, or that their families fiercely disapproved of their relationship from the very start, or that their relationship progressed in what many considered the wrong order.

 

All of the logical reasons their relationship was doomed paled in comparison to the sure fact that Soul loved that idiot, and that idiot loved her back come hell or high water.  

 

She was crouched on the balls of her feet now, precariously balanced in the window. Her best bet was to climb the drainpipe. Reaching said drainpipe, however, required a calculated risk. After she talked him down from the roof, Soul realized, Mako would probably berate her for this later. The scythe gathered her courage and leapt toward the drainpipe, grabbing ahold of the squealing metal as her legs swung in the air. She heard her mother’s worried shriek as she hung off the roof. Gritting her teeth, Soul achieved a pull up, the first in a while, and hoisted herself onto the roof.  

 

The roof of Gallows Manor was a steep slope that lead to an enormous dome. She could see her boyfriend’s silhouette at the top of the slope. Crawling on her hands and knees, Soul slowly scaled the roof, ignoring the tense tittering from the guests watching below. A roof shingle came loose, causing Soul to stumble in her ascent and spectators to gasp “OH!” with synchronized voices. She struggled onward, creeping closer and closer to her target.

 

Mako was perched by the chimney, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. Soul finally heaved herself to the top and sat unsteadily, cursing her lack of physical training for making it so damn hard to get up there in the first place.  “Come on, this is really dangerous. We should come inside.”

 

“I will never be good enough,” Mako said with a wavering voice. He didn’t look at her--only at the all-encompassing blanket of night sky. “Not for your dad, not for you. I will never be rich enough. I will never be cool enough.”

 

Soul couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. It was like he was stealing her lines, all this talk about not being good or cool enough. Didn’t that idiot know anything? “Please stop saying that stuff and come inside. Come with me.”

 

“No!” Mako said. He thought for a moment before finally looking at his weapon. “Why?”

 

Soul didn’t know what question he was exactly asking--Why should he come inside? Why did she chase him on the roof? Why did she love him at all?--but she replied anyway with the best answer she could think of.

 

“Because we’re going to have a baby.”  

 

Mako’s double take nearly caused him to topple off the roof. “Hwhat?”

 

The wind blew Soul’s long white hair in front of her eyes, and she brushed a lock behind her ear. “We’re going to have a child together,” she said. Her red eyes softened. “And I can’t do it without you.”

 

She reached out her hand to Mako, and the guests watching the entire scene below held their breaths. Mako took her hand, and the two stood up on the roof together, their silhouettes outlined by a laughing moon. His face was one enormous, dopey grin, and Soul felt a rush of affection and relief flood her chest. Mako held Soul’s face in his hands and gave her a deep, dizzying, and slightly sloppy kiss.

 

Mako abruptly broke their kiss and threw his fist into the air. “WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!” he exclaimed at the top of his lungs. The audience watching the spectacle from below broke into applause, and Black Star, of all people, shrieked in delight. Soul spied her mother grinning from ear to ear, and Wes jumping up and down in excitement. She avoided looking at her father, who was probably suffering from an aneurysm.

 

Soul gasped as Mako picked her up and carried her down the roof, bridal style. She didn’t wiggle or resist for fear that Mako would actually drop her or roll off the roof himself. Strangely enough, Mako’s precise sense of balance and superior reflexes hadn’t abandoned him in his drugged state. He swung back through the bathroom window with ease, never once threatening to drop his pregnant fiance.

 

Once back inside the bathroom, Soul tried in vain to collect Mako’s discarded clothing and dress him. Mako kept nuzzling her neck and trying to reach up her skirt, all the while actively resisting Soul’s attempts to put on his clothes. She had gotten Mako to put on his trousers and sit on the toilet while she threaded his arms through his shirt when her parents stormed in.

 

Soul was wrenched away from Mako and forced to face her mother. “Thank God you’re safe!” Cressida said, throwing her arms around her younger daughter. She pulled away and held Soul’s face in her hands. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, I’m so happy!” She pulled Soul into another tight hug. This was the type of affection Soul usually witnessed, but never received. For the first time in her life, Soul thought wryly, she had beaten Wes at something.

 

Victor maneuvered around the women and pointed a thick finger at Mako. “You idiot. What were you thinking? I want you to stay away from my daughter.”

Soul immediately untangled herself from her mother’s embrace, and stood between her fiance and her father. “Look, Dad--”

 

“Soul stay out of this,” Victor said dismissively.

 

“Dad, we’re getting married.”

 

“What?”

 

“We’re getting married!” Mako said dreamily. His shirt hung open, and his tie hung limply around his neck. Soul sighed and began to busy her hands by buttoning up his shirt. Mako started trying to catch Soul’s hands and hold them, causing her to sigh and swat them away. Victor loomed above them.

 

“Soul,” Victor said slowly. “You don’t have to marry this man just because you are pregnant. Your mother and I will help you, we can get through this.”

 

Courage and determination bubbled in Soul’s throat. “I’m marrying him because I love him, and if you don’t like it that’s just tough.” She secured the last of Mako’s buttons with a flourish of her wrist, and exhaled deeply.

 

Soul Eater Evans was done with this shit.

 

She spun around to face her father, chin set and hands on her hips. “And I’ll tell you something else!” Soul said, baring her teeth. “If you care at all about having me in your life, you better sort out your fucking attitude. Or else you’re going to end up a lonely, bitter old man.” Victor’s jaw went slack, and Soul grabbed Mako’s wrist and led him out of the room, through the hallway, and down the grand staircase. Not once did she look back to gauge her mother or father’s reaction.

 

At the bottom of the stairs, a thoroughly drunk Spirit Albarn materialized out of nowhere to cry on her son’s shoulder and wail about how she is too young to become a grandma. She was quickly pried off by Black Star, who declared herself the godmother of Soul’s unborn child. All of their friends were happily surprised, but Soul shrugged off her well-wishers to make a beeline for the door. Social hour was over. She would face her friends, her parents, and most probably the entire goddamn public tomorrow. Now, all she wanted to do was collapse into bed.

 

Blair and Wes were waiting by the door. Soul gave her cat a particularly scathing look. “I don’t want to see your furry ass for 72 hours. No cat naps, no belly rubs, no nothing. Clear?” she said to him. Blair drooped his ears and nodded sadly. To her sister, Soul said “And you! We’re gonna have a long chat about your life choices.”

 

Wes flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You sound like Dad.” Soul groaned at the thought of parenthood turning her into a weaponized version of her father. Her sister’s eyes widened as she looked over Soul’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

 

“Soul, don’t go!” Her parents never ran anywhere, under any circumstances, ever, but they sure as hell were close. She didn’t want to look at them, to see their furious and disappointed faces, yet Soul stood her ground and looked her advancing father in the eye.

 

For the first time she could remember, Victor Evans did not look terrifying. He looked terrified.

 

When her parents finally caught Soul at the front door, Victor took a moment to straighten his tie and clear his throat. Soul was too surprised to say anything, but what surprised her more was what happened next.

 

Her father’s gaze focused on Mako. “Albarn,” Victor said curtly. The man sucked in his lips and stuck out his hand to Mako, who looked at it in wonder. Impatient, Victor grabbed Mako’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

 

The significance of this gesture was not lost on Mako. “Thanks Dad,” he blurted before retracted his hand and covering his own mouth. Victor flared his nostrils, but said nothing. Cressida nudged her husband’s arm, and Victor turned to address Soul.

 

“Your mother and I would also love the five of us to have dinner together tomorrow night,” he said. “I’m sure we have a lot to discuss. Weddings don’t plan or pay for themselves.”

 

Soul ventured a smile. “Yeah, I--We’d like that.”

 

Both Soul and Mako spent the cab ride home grinning like a pair of idiots. The smog had lifted, and their lungs could breathe easily again.

 


End file.
